


Four Years Isn't That Long (Unless it is)

by hyenateeth



Category: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Meta, Short, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyenateeth/pseuds/hyenateeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are teenagers. </p><p>Turns out being in high school isn't that different from being a fatally doomed minor character. People pay about as much attention to you, at least.</p><p>Series of ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a night where people on my Tumblr sent me prompts and I wrote mini-fanfics for them. Two of the prompts ended up being for Rosencrantz/Guildenstern High School AU, and I actually kind of liked the results. 
> 
> The initial prompt was for Ros and Guil playing questions in class, annoying the teacher.

They met in the 8th grade, at an after school theater program. They performed A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Guil played Snout, Ros played Starveling, and they hung out backstage when they were not on, sharing sips of soda and making up games to play with coins. The next year they did not rejoin the theater program, but it did not matter. They were already inseparable. 

By high school they were pretty much one item. “ _RosNGuil_ ,” that is what the students called them. Always together, always together.

No one called them by their full names. 

In 10th grade, one of the better years of high school, where the horror of being a freshman as worn off but the apathy of being an upperclassman had yet to hit, they had a grand five out of eight classes together. They also had a new game to pass the time, because it was always games with them, coin games, card games, word games. This was one they could even play in class. 

During an independent study time, Ros tapped his pencil against the desk a few times before he began, quiet enough to not be disruptive. 

“What chapter are we supposed to read to?”

If Guil was annoyed, or affected at all, he did not show it, not looking up from his own textbook. “Why don’t you know?”

“Won’t you just tell me?”

“Will you actually read it if I do?”

“Why would you assume I wouldn’t?” 

“What are you implying?”

“What are _you_ implying?”

Guil’s book suddenly snapped down on his desk. “Foul! No repetition!”

The teacher cleared his throat. The boys bowed their heads. “Gentlemen,” sighed the teacher. “If you aren’t going to read, would you be so kind as to go make me some copies.” 

They shuffled out of the room together, caring enough to look humbled at their supposed punishment. 

Walking to the copy room, Ros stopped, looking at a flier on the wall. “Do you remember how we met?”

Guil stopped as well, arms full of papers the teacher had given them. “How could I not?”

“Have you ever considered acting again?”

“Why do you ask?”

Ros pointed at the flier. “Ever read Hamlet?”

“No I haven’t.”

“Foul!- Hey where are you going? Wait for me! Guildenstern-“


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the product of the second prompt which was just for more HSAU R&G.
> 
> I might write more if I get any more ideas or have a sudden urge to get really meta.

Rosencrantz drew on the back of Guildenstern’s hand sometimes, during lunch break, and they talked about stupid things, mostly. (Or maybe what they talked about wasn’t stupid, maybe it wasn’t stupid at all, maybe it was just too large for either of them. )

One day Ros was drawing a seascape, a boat being rocked by waves, prattling off fun facts about pirates he had read in a book recently (“And the cheese would get so hard they would whittle it!”), when he stopped suddenly and looked up at Guil, thoughtful.

“Do you ever watch those… teen drama shows?”

“What, like One Tree Hill?”

“Yeah.”

“Never.”

“Me neither. My sister does sometimes though.” He turned back to his drawing. There were a few moments of relative silence between them, filled in by the bustle of the cafeteria. Then: “If we were in one of of those shows what would we be?”

“Background characters,” said Guil without hesitation. 

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah. We’re not that important are we? Wouldn’t be any drama with us, nothing to hook in the viewers. I mean, we don’t even have girlfriends.”

Rosencrantz paused in his drawing, and looked down at Guildenstern’s hand in his. It laid there easily, and without thinking about it Rosencrantz squeezed it a little, feeling it’s warmth. He thought about how neither of them had girlfriends.

“Yeah,” he said after a long while. “You’re probably right.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah an update. This little short has more UST than it does meta, I assume people will be okay with that. Also this was not prompted by anyone so for once this one is just me.

Rosencrantz had signed up for tennis because he needed the PE credit, and because Guildenstern had. It turned out to be a mistake. Rosencrantz was very bad at tennis. It was too be expected, maybe. He still didn’t feel right in his own body, he had had a growth spurt recently and still felt too tall and gangly and clumsy. 

As a result he was very bad at tennis, and no one ever wanted to partner with him, save Guildenstern. And since Guildenstern was actually pretty good at tennis, Rosencrantz made a valiant effort. He kept his energy high, bounced back and forth, would in the air, really did try his best. 

Guildenstern claimed he had improved. When Guildenstern said things like that it almost felt worth it, even if the other students chuckled at him behind his back and the coach only seemed tangentially aware he existed.

(“If it were words you would be great at it,” Guildenstern had snorted once. “You probably have trouble because it requires you to shut up for a few minutes.”)

Once, before class started, Ros grabbed Guil’s hand. “Let’s skip,” he said.

“We’ll get in trouble.”

“No one will miss us.”

Guildenstern looked at him for a long time, long enough for Rosencrantz to wonder if he said something wrong. Then, finally, he shrugged. “Okay sure.” 

They hid out underneath the bleachers of the currently unused sports field. 

“This is so cliche,” snorted Guildenstern, and Rosencrantz did not disagree.

They both laid in the grass, shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the light streaming through the metal bleachers. 

“Why do they make us do sports?” Rosencrantz asked after a while.

“To keep out bodies in top shape,” Guildenstern answered easily.

“But why?”

“So we can do things.”

Rosencrantz chewed his lip. “And what do you suppose we are meant to do?”

“Nothing.”

“We’re meant to do _nothing_?”

“You misunderstand me,” sighed Guildenstern, and Rosencrantz turned his head to gaze at Guildenstern instead of the bleachers, watching him as he spoke. “There is _nothing_ we are _meant_ to do, except live and die.”

Rosencrantz kept his gaze on his companion. “That’s dark.”

“It’s true. But we might as well keep our bodies intact for the living part of it.”

Rosencrantz laughed and turned his gaze back upwards. “And here we are, laying here when we could be improving our well being.” He laughed again and shifted so his shoulder bumped Guildenstern's. “Well, shall we stretch our legs?”

Guildenstern imitated the shoulder bump. “I don’t feel like stretching my legs.”

Rosencrantz arm went out and grabbed for Guildenstern, meeting his thigh, the denim warm from his skin. “I’ll stretch yours, if you like.”

He meant it as joke, but suddenly it didn’t feel like one, not when his hand was on Guildenstern, and he thought Guildenstern may have stopped breathing. Or maybe he stopped breathing. It was hard to tell. 

“No,” breathed Guildenstern, his voice soft and unsure. 

Rosencrantz swallowed thickly. He was unsure what to do with his hand, so he left it there. He was looking at Guildenstern again, and this time Guildenstern was looking back.

Clumsily, Rosencrantz tried to laugh again. “We could. Stretch each others legs. Th-That way we wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

Guildenstern didn’t answer for what felt like a long time. He just looked at Rosencrantz.

Then suddenly he was rolling away, away from Rosencrantz’s gaze and his touch. “No, someone might come in.”

Rosencrantz wasn’t sure what had just happened between them, but maybe it was just him. Maybe he should just ignore it. Forget it. “In where?”

Guildenstern made a coughing noise. “Out here.”

“In out here?”

And it was gone. Whatever had happened was over. Maybe it had been nothing. Neither of them could be sure.

(The tennis coach did not count either of them absent. He did not notice that they weren’t there.)


End file.
